


Gramarye

by Kuroeia (Empatheia)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Flash Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-30
Updated: 2008-06-30
Packaged: 2018-10-05 21:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10317311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empatheia/pseuds/Kuroeia
Summary: A fight (not their first) sends her storming out of the castle in a huff. Zuko gets a little help from a friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Flashfic; prompter's name has been lost to time.

_she moves and it's fire_  
_(fire underwater)_  
_speaks and it's flame_  
_(she speaks my name)_  
_I used to see something in the idea_  
_but only once did my hands reach_  
_anything beautiful_  
_now she's turned away  
and I..._

**Remy Zero**

  


The door slammed shut behind her with a painful crack.

 

"And don't come back!" Zuko yelled, pointing a dramatic finger at it.

 

He immediately felt petulant and childish. Katara was already out of earshot. Shouting at nothing was pretty pathetic, even for him. And the vase, lying in expensive blue shards on the floor beside the door, had just been total overkill. The head housekeeper would definitely give him hell for that one as soon as she decided it was safe to approach him again.

 

With a groan of frustration, he put his hands to his head, then let them fall and swing dejectedly at his sides. An old habit, but it didn't make him feel any better this time. Zuko let himself tip backwards onto his bed and stared angrily at the ceiling.

 

"Why do I always screw this up?" he asked it loudly, then felt like an idiot all over again when it naturally didn't answer him. "Dammit. I suck."

 

*

 

The knock at his door was late, loud, and unwelcome.

 

"Go away," Zuko moaned. "I'm moping."

 

"Evening, loser," said Sokka with a wry grin, coming in anyways as he always did and helping himself to the far side of the bed. "How goes loserdom?"

 

Zuko made a noise into his pillow that should have sounded threatening but probably didn't. Sokka wasn't afraid of him in any case. He knew that if Zuko ever laid a hand on him — not that he would — Katara would kill him. Then heal him up with her magical waterbending thing, just so she could kill him again. They both loved her in their own way, but part of that love was great caution when it came to making her angry.

 

"I am the biggest loser ever to lose at anything," answered Zuko, turning his head so Sokka could hear him. "My loserdom is so spectacularly loserish that even regular losers don't talk to me at lunch. I am a paragon of failure."

 

Sokka reached over to pat him on the back. "There, there, Zuzu, don't be so hard on yourself," he said in a disturbingly maternal tone which Zuko privately thought he'd probably stolen from his Gran-Gran; an equally formidable woman. The entire family was terrifying, now that he thought about it. "It can't be that bad."

 

"Yes, it can," corrected Zuko. "She actually left the castle this time. Probably the entire citadel. I might never see her again. How could it possibly be worse?"

 

"She could have killed you," Sokka offered after a horrible spiraling moment of silence.

 

Zuko turned his head back into the pillow. "I think I might have preferred that, actually," he mumbled.

 

There was silence for several long moments, uncharacteristic of Sokka. Only small noises and movements in the mattress belied that he was even still there. Nerves tingling in warning, Zuko looked up just in time to see Sokka standing over him with his foot coming for Zuko's kidneys at alarming speed. Zuko's warrior reflexes kicked in and he rolled away just in time. Before he could breathe a sigh of relief, however, Sokka overbalanced on the soft mattress and came down with all his weight on Zuko's prone form.

 

Zuko was sure he felt at least three ribs crack. He couldn't breathe again for nearly three minutes.

 

"Sorry, man," said Sokka, clearly not sorry at all. "Feel better?"

 

"Much," he wheezed, because he did. Physical pain aside, or perhaps because of it, his head felt much clearer. "Pity party over, reconstruction commencing... now."

 

Sokka grinned. "That was more like a pity festival, actually. You are hands down the best wallower I know. Including Aang."

 

"Thanks for that," said Zuko dryly, feeling almost alive again. "I'm flattered. So, uh. What do I do now?"

 

His best friend lifted one finger and made his trademark sage advice-giving face. "Let's see. Your wife just ditched you in favour of life in the countryside. You have a speech tomorrow, which — unless I'm much mistaken — she hasn't written for you yet. You could probably pull it off on your own, you don't suck _that_ much, but hers are better. What else...? Oh, right: if she's not at the dinner tomorrow, the Water Tribe elders will pitch a fit, the Earth Kingdom people won't even talk to you or any of your subordinates unless she's there, and you need to appear strong and united for your own people or things will go pear-shaped pretty quick. In summary: you're pretty much screwed."

 

Zuko pulled himself up to sit on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands. "Yeah, I know. So what do I do?"

 

Sokka stared at him, mouth agape, for several seconds before he shut it with an audible click and spoke again. "Congratulations! You just won Biggest Moron in the World for the third year running. Put it on your shelf next to your tropy for Most Pathetic Wallower and polish it twice a month. Go after her, what else? Wait too long and she'll get too far away, you'll never catch her." Sokka relaxed and gave him a rueful grin. "I mean, I speak from experience here. Mai's not exactly the most typical girl in the world, but neither is my sister, and they do the same thing when they're ticked off. Trust me. Follow her or you'll definitely regret it."

 

"She'll kill me," Zuko said with a frown. "I mean seriously. She told me so in no uncertain terms. _If you follow me, I'll pull all your blood out your nose and drown you in it_ —" This he said in a high-pitched and nasal voice doubtless meant to emanate Katara. "—Like that. Going after her is suicide."

 

A moment later Sokka's open right palm connected solidly with his face. The pain was instant and eye-watering.

 

"If you don't go after her, she'll come back and kill you anyway. And you should stop exaggerating. Katara's really very nice, as long as you don't do any of the things you just did. She's never killed anyone, either, I don't think. You clearly don't know my sister as well as you think you do." He paused. "...Or maybe you're just bad at girls. In any case, you have five seconds to get your lordly butt out that door or I'll start explaining things with my sword. Clear?"

 

Zuko hesitated. He and Sokka were fairly evenly matched in bladework; Sokka maybe a bit better, but Zuko had the advantage of two swords. If it came to a battle he could hold his own, maybe even win... and why was he even thinking about this?

 

Sokka was right.

 

Zuko went.

 

*

 

He'd been searching for her for three days.

 

During that time, he'd missed two speeches, one delegate's dinner, several audiences, and one very important emissary from the Earth Kingdom. By the time he got back there would probably be another war on.

 

Zuko didn't care. Without Katara, it would probably have happened anyway. He was a passable Firelord without his wife, but a brilliant one with her, and everyone knew it. Besides, Sokka and Mai would cover for him. They were both political geniuses, and for some reason, they seemed to care that he stayed Firelord.

 

"Katara!" he yelled across the deserted valley.

 

There were wildflowers everywhere, a sweet little brook singing at the bottom of the overhang he stood on, and the sky overhead was blue. There was a soft, fragrant breeze in his nostrils. It was a beautiful day. A beautiful view. Katara loved places like this... this one especially. This was where he'd confessed to her. If she wasn't here, he really had no idea where else she might be. He'd already checked the place he'd first kissed her, the place she'd first kissed him, the mountaintop where he had proposed to her, the hall they'd gotten married in, and the cave they'd gone to after the final battle with Ozai to celebrate. Every place they had memories in together, he'd gone to, and found only a conspicuous absence of Katara. This was the last.

 

Letting out a gusty sigh, he sat down and hung his legs over the small cliff, chin sinking to rest on his hands and eyes drifting shut on their own. "Where are you, Katara?" he whispered. "I miss you."

 

"Is that so."

 

Zuko nearly fell off the cliff trying to scramble to his feet. "K-Katara! There you are! I was, uh, looking for you! Because Sokka said I should — I mean, because I heard it was what I was supposed to do — I mean, because I wanted to see you. Uh. You're not going to fall off, are you? Because that's kind of freaking me out."

 

The brook at the bottom of the cliff had risen up in a great pillar of ice reaching up to the level he sat at. Perched cross-legged at its summit was Katara. Her arms were crossed, she was glaring at him, but a quick glance at her hand revealed her ornate wedding ring, still firmly in place.

 

"No, I'm not going to fall off, so don't try and change the subject. Tell me again: why are you here? Give me one good reason. Just one."

 

Her face was hard. He couldn't find a single crack in it. All of a sudden he felt unbearably exhausted. "I told you. I missed you. I'm sorry I insulted the dress your Gran-Gran made you, it's really very pretty and well-made and you look beautiful in it. I mean, you look beautiful in everything — and um, nothing — uh." He took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm really sorry. I need you. I love you. Please come home."

 

A moment of silence. He didn't dare look up at her, so afraid of losing her that he could hardly breath... until he heard her exhale slowly. Then his head snapped up on its own and he met her eyes. She was smiling at him. Just a little one, but it was there, warm and rueful. The Katara he'd come to find had finally come back to him.

 

"I only asked for one good reason," she joked, her eyes suspiciously bright. "Not five."

 

Zuko shrugged and grinned back. This wasn't their first fight, and he was sure it wouldn't be their last, but every time he thought he came a little closer to understanding her. Maybe someday they'd understand each other well enough that they wouldn't even have to fight!

 

...On second thought, not likely, but Zuko could dream.

 

In a minute, she would apologize for overreacting. He would apologize some more, and she would respond by apologizing more too. Then they would go home arm in arm and apologize to Sokka and Mai, and the emissary, and the rest of the kingdom. Then they would probably apologize to each other a couple more times, retire to their room, and make up properly.

 

Zuko would find a new vase, blue like Katara's necklace.

 

 

They'd be all right.

**X**


End file.
